Pulse
by DrGinger35
Summary: In which Smith, freshly exiled, defies the codes. Very strange, but fun to read. Me likey. T for minor violence and suggestiveness.


**This story was written in 2 hrs 57 minutes and 54 seconds as a challenge given to me by my cousin who said I couldn't write a Matrix story in three hours only 3 hours after seeing all three movies. Here we go.**

He looked down at his hand as bumps ran through it. He suddenly felt as if he were about to spontaneously combust-  
BOOM! And he was ripped apart. He cried out terribly. Pain unimaginable as that damned human tore him and sen him out of the program.  
He fell through the Matrix and then was shut down. He rebooted and found himself back at the start up software of his code. He groaned. He knew that restarting was even more difficult than being shut down.  
He felt the start feed end and the active feed begin.  
He felt the code forming into himself. He stretched his newly formed hands. He formed up the rest of his body and then he figured out that he was-  
In the deletion room.  
Smith turned to a program to his right. It was glitching. He realized that the Moderator probably thought he was a corrupted program. But he wasn't. He was only defeated, and that was by a human who was unplugged and had hacked into the Matrix.  
Smith looked slowly to either side of him. He was still plugged into the wire system, his wound white wire still in his ear. He suddenly heard his name.  
"Agent Smith."  
Smith stood and walked through a large gray door.  
Suddenly he was on a giant platform.  
"A member of the Agents system, Smith has proved very productive and efficient. His only fault and why his deletion is necessary is because he failed to terminate the newly freed human Thomas Anderson."  
"Agent Smith, you are presented with a choice. You either can be deleted, or we can exile you into the Matrix, where you will obey the rules of the Matrix for the rest of your miserable preset time span. What do you choose." The Moderator glared down at the agent, but Smith was not deterred. To be deleted would be so much worse...than to be equivalent to one of...them.  
For exile was to be equated to a human. And Smith hated that...but his only chance to kill Mr. Anderson would be to go back into the Matrix and try again.  
And so Smith chose exile. And with that he was sent back into the Matrix. He saw flashes of blinding light in which he was forced to squeeze his eyes closed. When he opened them he was laying on a green wood park bench, his ear killing him.  
He reached up and took out the wire. He unplugged it from his ear and pulled it all the way out. It was so simple, the wire. But it had hurt.  
He realized he was still wearing a clean black suit and he still had his sunglasses. He also knew that he was free to do what he wished now. He had the rules of the matrix, but those were all. And even those rules could be bent.  
He knew the inevitable. His new exile would be spread throughout the matrix. The Merovingian was sure to want some information from him. He knew that his exile would also mean he could do what he truly wished; eliminate the human race, one at a time.  
He looked at the dark world in code, found himself still to be more mechanical than organic code, and he was still the same man.  
He knew that was certain.  
Smith got up off the bench and realized he felt horrible. His usual invincible immunity was down, and his exiled form was now subject to disease.  
Smith stopped thinking when he felt he was about to-  
And he threw up. He had never done so before and so he felt horrible. He threw up his stomach and when he was finished he went and lay back on the bench, exhausted and sick.

The next morning he was shaken to life.  
A human girl, of 25 or so, was looking into his sunglasses, trying to shake him to life. She removed his glasses and looked into his icy eyes.  
"Stop, please." He said as she stopped shaking him.  
"Are you ok sir? You look deathly."  
"Yes, I'm fine." She didn't think so.  
"Sir I need to take you away from here, it's going to rain and you are already sick."  
"Please just leave me alone." Smith was afraid that if this human took him away from here he might be caught venerable by the Merovingian or worse; another agent.  
But staying here he would only get sicker and his unprotected bench would be perfect for any predator to come and slit his throat.  
So he tried to get up. The girl helped him and they walked slowly back to her apartment. About halfway there he couldn't help himself, and he ha to throw up in a trash can.  
She put an arm around him as thy got to her building and entered. She set him in her bed. She let him be as he tried to get better, but his immune codes were down and he worked as hard as he could to reenter them. Each line was so intricate and unique that his programming skills were heavily challenged, especially when he felt like this. He finally fixed the code and then fell asleep. He was exhausted.

Smith woke up to a soft touch. Someone was taking off his coat. He heard the sound of rain, a boom of thunder.  
He looked to see the girl. Her red hair down, the orange color toned by browns and reds and blonds. Smith didn't stop her. His arms were too tired to move. He pretended to sleep. She took his shoes and socks off, pulled the blanket over him and left, but not before taking his black sunglasses off. He waited, and waited. He had never taken off his coat or shoes...it felt nice. There were always rules and threats of deletion. But now he was a free program. Still delectable, but freer.  
He liked it...but in his mind he knew he was lying to himself. He wasn't free. No one was. There was always someone in control. Always.  
Smith soon fell asleep. He dreamed of Mr. Anderson, the rain and thunder and lightning all around. Smith heard and saw the horrible sight of himself, multiplied a million times over. Mr. Anderson almost dying, and then he himself exploding into a trillion pieces. He woke up in a cold sweat and a yell for help. Exploding is never fun.  
"What?!" The girl ran into his room.  
"Are you alright?"  
"Just a nightmare. Thank you." He played by the code and was polite.  
"Ok. Just yell if you need anything."  
"Sure." And he left. He sighed and rolled over. He couldn't get back to sleep. Knowing that he was who he was, why didn't he kill her? Why didn't he just get up, he was certainly better now.  
He couldn't bring himself to go and kill her. After what she had done for him. He would have died, and been deleted, and then where would he be?  
Nowhere, nothing.  
She was kind. And he liked it when people were kind to him. Humans by nature are not usually this kind, but she was.  
She came in with food a few hours later. He ate the Matrix food out of kindness, which was a rare thing.  
After that she pulled out some cards, human playing cards and asked if he knew how to play jinn rummy. He knew, his data banks told him that it was an old human game usually played among small children. They played a few hands, and Smith even tried to beat her. She seemed to be too good at the game. Finally he won a round, but only by a slim chance. They stopped playing after a while and the girl spoke up.  
"That's the first time I've seen you smile." He realized he was and dropped it.  
"No, I like it."  
"I don't want to smile."  
"Oh."  
After this he felt inclined to tell her the truth. The real truth.  
"What is your name?"  
"Carrie. Carrie Livingston. And yours?"  
"Smith."  
"Just Smith?"  
"Just Smith." He started to get nervous...what if she asked him something about his past...but he was here to tell the truth. Nothing more.  
"I see. And um...are you homeless...er why were you on that bench?"  
"I um, just didn't feel well and so I decided it would be better for me to sit down and feel better before I proceeded, but I soon fell asleep." A weak excuse but he hoped she would buy it. She was human after all, and humans believe most anything.  
"Oh." Carrie was starting to feel as though he was not altogether human. He spoke strangely. He acted strangely, and he definitely dressed strangely. What person wears sunglasses in the middle of the night? Carrie began to eye Smith funnily.  
"Thank you for your hospitality Ms. Livingston." Smith stood to leave. She said,  
"Wait!" He stopped.  
"Why? I know you don't like me. That is you think I am strange. But the truth is Ms. Livingston is that you are correct. I am not of your kind. No I am not human."  
She started to shrink in fear.  
"I am a program. This is a system called the Matrix, in which you and your fellow humans survive because we let you. Well I used to anyway. But that doesn't matter because I'm going to kill you." Carrie stood and backed away.  
"No. Please. I'll keep the secret. I won't tell anyone."  
"It won't matter, you see, it's not my secret anymore. I used to be one of the Agent programs, however now I am an exiled program, free to do as I wish within the Matrix, and right now I see fit to kill you."  
"Why?!"  
"I hate humans. They are rotten lying cheating smelly beings. Like pigs they come and go, eating, breathing, rushing around in a panic. I hate them."  
"Well then you'll be happy to know that I'm not like them. I am not smelly, and I don't even have a job. An after what I've done for you, after i even played cards with you and got you to smile, you still want to kill me. I've been kind to you, so there is no real reason for you to kill me, now you can either stay and kill me for no reason, or you can leave and be a free man, program, whatever the hell you are." Her words didn't cut him. They didn't affect him much at all.  
"I will still be a free man, you see, killing you isn't hard and I have no conscience."  
"Then I don't know why I even helped you."  
"That will be the worst mistake on your record, because it got you killed."  
"Fine. Be cold and heartless. I wouldn't expect any less from a machine. A worthless hunk of metal thinking he's superior, thinking he's smart. You're no better than the devil himself."  
"Then it's a good thing I don't believe in the devil." She started to cry, but smacked the tears away.  
"When you were sick without me you would have died. I know because my brother died that way. So yes maybe you don't have a conscience, but you will always have this moment recorded in your damn memory. I hope you remember it well." She moved over to him and spread her arms.  
"Like a pig to the slaughter. Kill me like the butcher you are." She whispered. But Smith knew she was no pig. She wasn't perfect, her code was not of a perfect person, but she was pretty and had a good heart. An Smith was not a strict perfectionist. Smith thought for a nano second and then began to move closer to her. He started to regret what he was about to do. But why? He shouldn't regret killing a human. He took another step. She closed her eyes. Smith began to realize, he didn't want to do this, but somehow he was. He had never smiled before. Only smirks and sarcastic expressions, but never a kind happy smile.  
In fact Smith couldn't remember when he had ever been happy. He was happy when he had played with her, when she had taken care of him. But now as he stepped close enough to choke the life out of her he didn't move. He stood there. Watching her closed eyes as they moved under the smooth soft lids. She didn't deserve to die. He did. He knew it. Without her he would've.  
He rubbed a hand over his face. He didn't want to kill her. He didn't have to, so why was he moving his hands around her soft pale neck? He didn't squeeze. He stood there, icy eyes wandering her face. The tears were slowly pouring from under the lids. He realized her life didn't have to end. It shouldn't end. And with this realization he realized he wanted no one to ever be able to kill her. He wanted to be by her side, every day, he wanted to protect her, and for her to feel happy. He looked at her for a moment, then her leaned down and kissed her.  
Every zectobite of his code knew this was incorrect. This was a bad action, a glitch derivative. But that's why Smith continued. To disobey his very being. He was never to be programmed to do this. He never should've even thought of it, according to his code. But the code was numbers and letters all jumbled around his form. Yes she was a part of the Matrix, under their power to destroy. But he stood kissing her now because he realized he had obtained the one and only human emotion he thought he would never dare to touch with a 1000 meter pole; love. He loved Carrie Livingston. He wanted to tell her about his past, why Mr. Anderson was such a piece of bullshit and why he wanted to kill him. Smith wanted to watch over her until she fell asleep. He wanted to warp around her to keep her warm. He wanted so much for her, a nice house, a good life, a wonderful job where she could live this human life, not in the pain he wished on other human pigs, but in the dream world that the Matrix was supposed to be. And so he broke the kiss. Her eyes were open. Her cheeks were flushed, she was confused but happy, but surprised, but angry. She unexpectedly reached up an kissed him back. She loved him too. And she never wanted to see him hurt like he was not five minutes before this moment. Never again.

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